


you made me do it

by thefudge



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Kilgrave is his own trigger warning, Power Dynamics, you shouldn't mix trauma with sex but there you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 22:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13961004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: Kilgrave is just a thought, but what a dangerous thought, indeed. Based on 2x11 (shower scene).





	you made me do it

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a slut for "i'm doing this to you while i'm in your head". enjoy. and hate me later.

  
Drops of water fall on her back and cling to her spine like leeches. 

Water is meant to be curative, but it only beats a reminder into her skin: she will never wash these deeds, because in order to do so, she would have to scrape the very flesh off her bones and crush the power that ignites them. 

She would have to be undone, muscle by muscle, joint by joint.

And she’s chicken-shit. She may be strong enough to kill, but she’s not strong enough to take herself out.

“Shhh, don’t say that, darling,” he whispers softly against her ear. “Where would I be without you?”

He doesn’t announce himself - he is just there and was there before she got in the shower. In fact, he’s _always_ been there, waiting for her.

His hands rest at the base of her neck, fingers gently kneading the bundle of muscles, thumbing away the pressure.

Jessica _knows_ he’s dead, but then again, she also thought the same thing about her mother.  Her mother, who is in prison right now for homicide. Her mother, who told her she’s proud of her for doing what she did.

 Kilgrave leans his chin in the crook of her shoulder. “I’m proud of you too.”

Jessica licks her lips and exhales. It almost sounds like a snort. Like she can’t believe how _funny_ this is. Hysterical, actually.

“Oh yes, very proud,” he insists, his disgustingly warm fingers pressing into the side of her arms, leaving little white marks. “The way you handled yourself was _superb_. A true pro.”

He kisses the side of her neck, lips dry and familiar. “ _Imagine_ what we could have done together if you had been as willing.”

Jessica clicks her jaw shut. She pulls out of his embrace and slams him against the bathroom tiles.

“That’s the problem, dickhead. I was _never_ willing.”

Kilgrave gives her a wide grin, eyes glassy with hunger. He was never satisfied when it came to her, always needed _more_. He grips her wrist and applies pressure to it, making her squeeze him harder. He’s enjoying this.

No. Her _delusion_ is.

“Dickhead, eh? That sort of paints a picture,” he taunts. “What other lovely nicknames do you have for me?”

“I don’t know,” she spits, “there’s always fuck-weasel.”

He explodes with laughter, even though he’s becoming purple from her vise grip. But purple has always suited him.

“Fuck-weasel! Excellent! Oh, I do miss that potty mouth of yours.” And his eyes stray to her lips.

Jessica drops him with disgust.

She expects him to disappear or turn up in another corner of the bathroom, but instead, he’s kneeling in the tub, looking up at her like a kicked puppy dog in the rain. Except, puppy dogs don’t leer like that.

 “It would be rather smug of me to point out I’m only here because you _want_ me to….so, I won’t,” he says, licking his lips.

Jessica makes a face. “You _just_ did.”

“Oops,” he shrugs. “Well, _you_ made me do it. Just like you’re making me do this.”

His fingers wrap around her ankle like leeches. Sucking the last bit of energy from her. He lifts her foot, placing it gently on the edge of the tub. He maps the length of her calf, looking for scarring, or blemishes, or bits of dirt she forgot to clean. He wants her to be _perfect_.

He even says it.

“ _God_ , you’re flawless. Your skin is like fine porcelain. I wonder if it’s still got the same taste.”

And shit, if that doesn’t make her tremble and heave.

Kilgrave reaches forward, lips ghosting over the back of her knee.

“Remember…” he chants, “this is all in _your_ head…”

He presses his lips to the inside of her thigh and she can’t help tilting her head back an inch.

 

 

He buries his nose inside her, inhaling deeply. He groans when he feels her fingers thread through his hair, gripping hard.

“You know, Jessie…” he murmurs, flicking his tongue against her clit, “you may act like a sour lemon on the outside…but inside…we both know…what you taste like….”

He doesn’t finish the thought. He _is_ a thought, after all.

She arches her hips forward and he blows cold air on her cunt. “Come on…tell me…tell me what you taste like, Jessie.”

She wants to throw up, but she can taste it in her mouth. She can taste herself.

“C-Chocolate fudge,” she exhales with a deep moan.

“That’s riiiight,” he croons happily and devours the rest of her.

 

 

She’s probably masturbating with the shower head, that’s what it must look like from the outside. It’s only a coping mechanism.

 

 

Later, she is standing by the window, toweling her hair. He is sprawled on the bed, perfectly dry and in full regalia. Impeccable striped suit, impeccable slicked-back hair. Nasty fuck-weasel.

“Isn’t it terribly ironic?” he says, resting his chin in the crook of his palm. “I can only do what _you_ want me to. A role-reversal if I ever saw one.”

“If you’re trying to say I’m like _you_ now –”

“ _Like_ me? Sweetheart, you _are_ me. And I am you. Honestly, have you never watched _Fight Club_? This is how this whole thing works.”

“Shut up.”

“And yet, you love the sound of my voice.”

“Get out!”

“From where? That beautiful head of yours? Sadly, you removed that possibility when you broke my neck. I have nowhere to go."

“This is just a side-effect of exhaustion,” she mumbles, leaning her head against the window pane.

“You’re already _tired_? I thought you’d have more stamina than that. I’m hardly done with you,” he leers.

“ _Cut_ it with the perv talk,” she warns.

“Who’s the perv in this scenario _really_?”

“Stop –”

“Look, is it worth arguing with yourself?” he asks and he’s suddenly right behind her, ancestral shadow breathing down her neck. He presses her further into the glass, like he’s about to push her through.  “Or do you want to put me to better use?”

 

 

Jessica won’t ever admit it, how good and punishing it feels to let him do it. To let herself do it.

To fuck herself, to fuck herself into oblivion.

Kilgrave sinks into her like a knife. He places his hand over hers, finger twisted and curled.

“This is what it feels like to kill, Jessie,” he whispers against her hair. He pulls out and thrusts again, making the wound deeper, making it burn. “You think you lose control, but you actually _gain_ it. And that’s what actually scares you. You feel powerful.”

Jessica shakes her head. How can this be power?

Suddenly, Kilgrave is everywhere. In front of her, behind her, to her left, to her right, above and below. He is an unholy spirit, filling up her lungs. The pleasure comes in waves of destruction, obliterating thought and action. She rises from the coiled embrace of her demons, mouth open in ecstasy. The Kilgraves feast on every inch of her, until she has tears rolling down her cheeks.

She is high on herself. She is high on her powers. She finally understands she _has_ them. She finally understands why Trish thinks they’re a gift. It’s been seventeen years, but she finally feels special.

 

 

(there's something so appealing about the fact that he's already dead and she can't break him no matter how _hard_ she tries)

 

 

In the morning, the burden returns.  Her conscience, her guilt, her bleeding sense of morality. She doesn’t feel special, this isn’t a gift. This is a nightmare.

Her mother is a murderer, she is hallucinating her rapist.

She dresses perfunctorily, slipping the bra over her head.

Kilgrave clasps the hooks at her back with perfect precision. Like he’s done it so many times before. It’s almost comforting to let him handle it.

He sinks his thumb into her cheek.

“Let’s start the day with a smile, shall we?”


End file.
